Impairment in Communicaton? Me?

On page 50 of his book 'The Complete Book to Asperger's Syndrome', Tony Attwood, a leading authority on Asperger's Syndrome and Asperger's in girls, lists five qualitative impairments in verbal or non-verbal communication that mark Asperger's Syndrome in adults.

Me?  I have a problem with COMMUNICATION?!

December 29, 2012 South Bank, Brisbane

1.  Tendency to turn any conversation back to self or own topic of interest.  Well, yeah, it's how I relate to you, through letting you get to know ME!  Sigh.  You should hear conversations between me and horse girl.

2.  Marked impairment in the ability to initiate or sustain a conversation with others.  This I CAN do.  I just talk about ME!  Cannot see the point of superficial social contact, niceties, or passing time with others, unless there is a clear discussion or activity.  Uh Dad, sound like anyone you know?  More on this later.

3.  Pedantic style of speaking, or inclusion of too much detail.  Are you laughing with me or at me?!  Although, really, how you people live without knowing what's up is beyond me.

4.  Inability to recognize when the listener is interested or bored.  Even if the person has been told not to talk about their particular obsessive topic for too long, this difficulty may be evident if other topics arise.  I, for the record, can tell if you are bored.  I just don't care.  This is also one of the first points Ryan's teachers mentioned about her in Germany, her inability to care that the other kids weren't interested in what she was saying.

5.  Frequent tendency to say things without considering the emotional impact on the listener (faux pas.)  Interestingly, or perhaps only to me!, I can tell how I impact others, I just don't care sometimes, because I don't get why people don't want to acknowledge the truth.  It's out there.  We all know it.  So why not be honest about it?

Attwood says that most adults diagnosed with Asperger's are relieved.  They have always known there was something different about them from everyone else.

"There can be a new sense of personal validation and optimis, at last not feeling stupid, defective or insane.  'That's why I'm different; I'm not a freak or mad."

It's an AH- HA experience.

Now.  Will someone please tell me the point of superficial social contact, niceties, or passing the time with others unless there is a clear discussion or activity?!  Really, please.  This is why I drank. 

Good Kids? Since You Asked....

So, we're at the horse barn the other day.  All of us.  Ryan and her entourage of four brothers.

Ryan riding Quadrille at Open Day

"You're kids are always so good," they told me. 

"What's your secret?"

Turns out on this particular day I had bribed them with lunch at KFC's afterward. 

My boys do behave fairly well, most of the time, in public though.  So if KFC's isn't profound enough for you, how about these little parenting gems?

Two class councillors and a star of the week!

1.  I spend time with my children.  I enjoy spending time with them.  We play board games.  We play sports games.  We read.  We do art projects.  We talk to eachother around the dinner table.  We spend a lot of time together, and then when we don't, they know how to amuse themselves.  Creatively.  Without a television, an Ipad or a computer game.

2.  They are allowed to roughhouse and be wild and run around the soccer field and park.  I don't expect them to be sitting quietly with their heads immersed in a book all the time.  They can be silly.  They can jump on eachother and sit on eachother and throw things at eachother.  Outside.  At the appropriate time.  (Usually at home and usually all afternoon!)

Michael!!!

Justin Bieber and Jaden Smith showing off their grammies  (Never Say Never!!!)

3.  But then when I DO expect some behaviour and cooperation, my standards are high.  They are given time to be children.  They have time with family.  And then there are times when they need to listen and be patient.  This is hard.  This sucks.  But this is life.

4.  We take them places starting at an early age.  They go to music group or playgroup or singing at the library.  They learn how they are expected to behave in a group.  We go to sit-down, family restaurants every now and then.  And we teach them how to behave there.  We go to kids' theatres and shows in the park.  We go to museums and we go to amusement parks.  We don't expect them to behave for three hours at the opera.   We sit through child theatre.   Which teaches them to appreciate the arts at their level.  And I certainly expect that they can manage to play quietly, safely and respectfully for an hour at the barn. 

We are a family!  I got all my brothers and me.

5.  We do a lot of family stuff together.  Sometimes it is about soccer and baseball and the boys.  Sometimes it is about Ryan.  Or Mommy running.  Or a few of us run as a family.  It is not always about them, but it is about us. 

Of course, there are times I want to throw my daughter out of the house, via the second-story porch.  And there are days - like yesterday - where I can't even get a decent breakfast into her. 

I'm not perfect.

But I think I'm a pretty good mom.

Pretty in pink.  Surrounded by crazy!

The biggest secret isn't KFC's.  It's the time I spend with my kids, the time I take to be with them, to play with them, and to speak with them.  They aren't a chore to be gotten out of the way, they are my life. 

It's important to remind myself of that sometimes.

My Fairy Child

It's Friday and Ryan has started her Friday morning private riding lessons.

Which isn't to say that it wasn't hard to get up this morning after a week off.  In fact, it was so hard to get her out of bed, it was impossible to get her to eat anything more than a mueslix bar.  And although she was excited once we were there, she was so exhausted and undernourished she almost passed out on the horse. 

She did pass out three months ago, also during the holidays, when we just couldn't get her to get up and eat regularly.

I'm sure it's exacerbated by puberty, but this inability to get into the swing of things - basic things like eating even - if the schedule is off - is not normal.  I will have to spend a week or two getting her back into the routine of schooling after every break.  Even after only one week off, she is sluggish to the point of - well, of passing out doing her favourite pasttime.  It is going to be a constant struggle to keep her going, and to teach her to keep herself going, over the next few years.

I drag her with us on family outings.  They are becoming more and more important to us.  She hates to go.  She won't get up.  She wraps herself up in weird clothes and scarves and jackets.  She brings her knitting and her sketching.  We aren't even trying to pretend she's an average thirteen year old girl anymore!  Who would we be kidding?!  She does come out of her shell, eventually, usually, and is even happy then.  We, her family, are her world.

The diagnosis of Asperger's never entered my mind because of the label "little professors."  These people are supposed to be brilliant at one thing.  (It's a steroetype, but what a nice one!)  And I never considered Ryan particularly brilliant at anything.  Certainly not her schoolwork.

And then I watched her ride.  And she is doing dressage.  Okay, she's still on a little pony, but the teacher is working with her on skills I never could get my body to understand.  And she really follows them effortlessly.  She's really really good.  Naturally talented.

Eh, it's not anything noteworthy like Einstein or Spielberg or Gates.  Except she COULD compete internationally as an adult and do quite well.  Professional athlete might not be what I considered brilliant, but it is certainly laudable.

And it takes single-minded dedication and determination.

Which she has.

On reflection, she also has a lot more knowledge about horses than I gave her credit for.  It's all just superficial stuff, like colours and markings and breeds, I tell my mother.  But how many people know all that?  I do.  And I know a lot more besides, like all the diseases and the care and husbandry.  Not only do I also have Aspergers, though, I am a veterinarian.  I studied this stuff at school.

I've been comparing her knowledge to mine instead of to the average person.

Ryan doesn't have to be brilliant at all.  But her riding skills AND her equine knowledge certainly register as out of the ordinary.

Out of the ordinary.

My child the fairies sent me.  Riding her unicorn.

Social Butterfly is Really Social Mimic!

Until now, although I've dabbled on the internet a bit,  I havn't read any major books or papers on Asperger's syndrome. 

I've only even considered the term for Ryan since November and myself since December.

The biggest help I've had is from friends with children also on the spectrum.  When I tell them my concerns, or cry over the major dramas, they tell me that their children do similar things, that they have similar issues, that those are the classic signs and concerns of autism.

Oh.

Both of us are just so high-functioning that it's easy to dismiss it as personality quirks, or being stubborn, or just plain adolescence.  Or depression.

"You, of all people, Christine, cannot have Asperger's," most people tell me.  (Except for the ones who also have it or have a child with it, in which case they saw me coming from a mile away!)

December 29, 2012 in Brisbane

The thing is, you people exhaust me.

I have spent a lifetime mimicking societal expectations - and for the most part doing it quite well.

But I've never understood especially female interactions. 

"When I think back on all the crap I learned in highschool, it's a wonder I can think at all."

Ian's World

Except it doesn't end at highschool.

Why don't people say what they mean?  And what they think? 

Why do they say one thing, like for example, oh we love going to the beach and spending all day in the water, and then come with us to the beach and spend the whole time complaining about the sun and sand?  And that the waves are too high?  Or whatever.

Why not just say you don't like the beach?

And why get mad when I am finally honest and say I hate shopping and hate to be indoors and no, don't count on me to be there for an indoor activity on a sunny day in southeast Queensland?  Look, I spent enough forced time indoors in Europe to last me my lifetime.  I did not come to Queensland to hang out at the mall.

Which isn't saying you can't.  Or shouldn't.

Ryan's World, only meters away

And why tell me that I was totally right to ask who I wanted to the highschool senior prom and then turn around and tell everyone else - not aware I was within hearing range - that I deserved all the animosity the guy I didn't give a chance to ask me was dishing out at me.

It appears to me that most of the women's interactions I see around me mimic highschool even now.

And I don't get them.

Why waste all that time and energy being disingenuous?

Or is everyone just lying to themselves?

Ian meet Ryan's world!

I spent hours on the phone every night in highschool in the thick of the turmoil and drama.  And I was so good at it.  So good.

Maybe people get mad because I fit in so well and then just decide it isn't worth it anymore and give up.  I tire of some social milieus very quickly.

Maybe I'm the one who is lying by pretending to be like everyone else.

I'm pretty certain I do have some degree of ASD traits because social interactions exhaust me.

December 31, 2012 at White Water World, Gold Coast

What a relief to finally admit I would rather be at home with my family, that I would rather be writing or running or doing yoga.   

What a relief to be able to allow myself to be comfortable with who I really am, instead of who I always thought I should be for everyone else.

April Goal

That worked surprisingly well for March. 

I don't know how I did it.  It didn't seem particularly hard.  I didn't feel like I was working on it all the time.

It was baby steps, maybe.  Or just timing.  Focus?  Damon doing all the washing up and putting to bed?

It feels like magic.

Which gives me hope for the other goals in my life, the weight-loss mostly right now, but other things as well. 

Now that I do carry that notebook, and have been for three or maybe even four years, and now that I am able to take what I see and experience daily and record it regularly in a (fairly) readable manner, I find it is time to be brave enough to at least attempt the next step.

Yes, Mr. Editor, I realise I could cut a HEAP of words out of that last sentence to make it stronger and more definitive.

I'm  just not that confident yet.

The goal for April is to take those everyday observations and thoughts and writings and turn them into something productive for my novel.

The idea of the novel has been in existence since the beginning of July, 2012.  Which, lo and behold, is just about nine months.  It has changed drastically in that time.  It has evolved.  It has grown.

With the discovery of some friends also interested in furthering their fiction, now seems like the perfect time to announce the arrival of my new creation, a fictional story about a teenage girl.

Readers, meet Ryanne. 

And help me write her world into existence.

Park Run Take Two

My second North Lakes park run was on Saturday, the day before Easter. 

Bobbi and Nicole at 6:30 AM on a Saturday.  Why I run!

I expected the turnout to be small, but there were still almost one hundred people there, just like last week.

A lot of kids and families and parents pushing prams though.

Good, this was more my element.

Baseball and riding trophies, last Saturday

I started off better this time, I thought, even though I had run 12 kms the day before.  I was with the main back.  At the rear of the main pack.   Like a comet's tail behind the main pack.

I was alone.

Did those parents have jet engines tied to those prams?

I tried to keep up with the 20 year old girls but they were steadier. 

Ah good, the dads running with their kids.  I might be able to hang with them.   One dad was singing to his 12 year old son behind me. 

"You can get back at him by asking him 'are we there yet, are we there yet?' for the final two rounds,"  I told the son over my shoulder.

"You're embarrassing me, Dad, " he said as they sped past me.

Damn.

There was the dad with three kids under six though, I thought I could take them. Maybe.  I caught him on the last lap with an empty pram, two kids left on the lawn behind him, going the wrong way.  Had he lost a kid?  Or more importantly, had he finished and back-tracked? 

'Cause that's four people I beat if he hasn't!

My goal had been to get lapped by less people than last time.  Which was an admirable goal.  Except they kept coming by me, sooner than expected, and in greater numbers.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Hold on people!  At least have the decency to wait until I finish the first lap.  What planet do you people come from anyway?!  And isn't there a runaway subway bus or train that needs saving somewhere?

All in all I got lapped by 18 people this time.  Twenty if you count the two kids that last guy was pushing in the double pram.

I mean come on people!

Pas de duex

The first nine runners finished in under 20 minutes.  The first 20 in under 23 and the first 50, which is about half the field, in 26:30  and under.

I still love it though.  As the first runners are crossing the finish line, I am thinking,man, if I was just a little bit faster I'd be done now too.

A little bit faster.  As in 15 minutes faster.  Twice as fast.  Or even faster than that, if we have to be honest about it. 

That last lap I catch up with old buddies.  The kids mostly.  Like the eight year old with the mild hypertonia who - lo and behold - has been ahead of me this whole time and is still going.  I am humbled.   

I briefly run with my two new girlfriends, about Andrew's age.

Before they shoot off like the stars they are and leave me in their dust.

Where'd everybody go now that I have the ball?

I finish in my own time, my just about 35 minute time.  For now. 

And I am happy.

I don't mind being at the back of this crowd at all.  It beats being at the front of any other. 

It beats being earthbound.

I like being the comet's tail. 

Running High

Or is it running wild?

In any case, the only reason I went running this past Friday was because I was up at 6 AM anyway and it was either get out and get it over with or wait for the only class at the gym that day which wasn't until 9:30 since it was Good Friday.

Which meant I would have had to deal with the twins and Ian who were all up and running around the playroom downstairs while Damon was asleep on the couch.

It was a no brainer really.

Lets face it, I started running to lose weight but, since that isn't happening, I do it to prove I can.  And to get away from the kids.

I figured I'd do my usual route, out my front door to the right, up Lawnton's Pocket Road past the Lawnton Pool, left onto Gympie, past the highschool and then left back onto Bells Pocket Road and then home.  I was pretty sure it was about 5 kms, perhaps a bit more.

I'm pretty low tech.  No running watch.  No map my run.  No water bottle.  No ipod.  Just a good pair of shoes and a sunhat.  Never go anywhere in Australia without a sun hat.

I felt pretty good.  It was still fairly cool at 6:30 AM.  I made it the 2 kms to the Lawnton pool okay.  And Gympie was good.  Left onto Bell's Pocket and still going strong.  No leg pain.  No burning lungs.  Damn.  I must be going slower than I thought.  I hate pushing myself to the point of pain.  But I must have been daydreaming.  Here I am passing home and I still feel pretty much as good as when I started.

And this is where the brain starts talking to itself.  You don't have a voice inside your head telling you what to do?  Well I have two.  At least.  This time neither was going to let me stop.  The debate was about where to go next.  I needed to stay on the route.  To be safe, I had told Damon to come looking for me if I wasn't home by 7:15.  Which I figured meant he'd come looking at around 8:00. 

I knew that back up to the pool was 2 kms.  And back from there another 2 km.  That would be cool.  Especially since I'd never done more than 7 - 8 kms before.

I get to the Lawnton Pool and both voices are telling me, what the heck it is either 2 kms back along that boring road or about 3 forward.  And then you can say you did it TWICE!  Friggin' overachievers, both those voices!  At least one did let me stop in front of the pool to let me stretch my back.

After that I stopped talking to my voices.  And listened to my body.  I walked a bit in front of the highschool.  The sun was getting hotter.  Damon did a drive by right as I was about to turn off of Gympie onto Bell's Pocket, so I figured that was about 8:00. 

He just gave me a honk and a thumbs up and kept on driving.  So I guess I looked like I wasn't doing too too bad.

I don't know how fast I did it.  Probably about 1 hour and 40 minutes, with one stretch at 8 kms and two walks between 9 and 11 kms. 

I guess.  Approximately.  Because as it turns out the route is 6.1 kms.  And I did it twice.  Before 8:30 in the morning.

I'm still not happy with how this body looks.  I am so annoyed that I am eating next to nothing and running and working my heart out and it's still not working my ass off.  I'd like to blame it on the thyroid but more than that I'd like to not HAVE to blame it on the thyroid.

And so I ran 5 kms the next day too.  In 35 minutes.  And I will continue to run.  And to work out.  And to diet. 

I like the high I get from being able to do these things.  Damn, I can run 12 kms!!!

I like what this body can do.

As long as those crazy voices keep it going.