Some holiday darkness on a fine winter eve
May I offer you these thoughts, on the anniversary of my divorce, with the holidays coming. And before you begin, this is not a tale of my ex wife and I, so please do not make that particular interpretation . . . Take it as it is; a story of autism and vulnerability at a time of year things often go wrong . . .
Lies, evasions, and half truths. All are deceits. Yesterday’s white lie, once discovered, reveals the big one from the month before. That’s the problem with lies. When you unravel one, there is always another behind. It’s a ball of string that leads to the darkest recesses of the mind . . .
It’s easy to demand honesty, to hold the other person to a high standard. It’s hard to deliver, though, and harder still to know if we receive the truth in our most intimate exchanges. So often, love and hope blinds to what’s obvious, when seen from a distance.
Our understanding of others is based on observation and interpretation. Revisited in the hard light of freshly discovered deception, everything changes. Was it innocent, or was it planned?
Relationships end, and we don’t really know why. A few months later, the truth emerges, in a few casual words. Innocent enough, until the idea percolates in the mind. There were the phone calls, those unexplained days, and those fights that made no sense . . . suddenly, everything looks different. It feels wrong. Did those things really happen, or was it all in the mind? When one fact proves real, other evidence is harder to ignore. Hope gets replaced by resignation. And so the mind begins its tortured journey.
What seemed sweet and sad immediately turns shabby and tawdry. Sympathy turns to cold rage, as the realization of what’s really happened sinks in. All of a sudden, the magic of the precious days before is shattered, never to seem beautiful again. Was her sweet smile real, or was it just a pretty lure, reeling him in?
Logic tells us it started out real. Love grows, and goes astray. Life intrudes. Other options appear. At some point, what was real became false. And looking back, we cannot know the precise time and place that it all went wrong.
The optimist says it was beautiful, until the very last day.
The pessimist says he was played for a fool, right from the start.
The realization sinks in that it’s really over. Some would put her photo in the drawer. Others would cast it in the trash. In the end, everyone moves on. But for some, the pain lingers for a lifetime.
That’s the terrible curse of autism, when love goes wrong. We lack the defenses others have evolved; our hearts are easily broken and hard to repair. We perseverate, and ugly thoughts circle in our mind, slicing jagged tears in the soul with every gyration. We lack expression, so the feelings stay locked inside, eating us alive. And worst of all, we lack the ability to sense positive energy from others, to rebuild our psyche. Breaks are the start of a hard, hard time. For some, it’s a path to alcohol or depression. For others, it’s a door to suicide.
I wish it wasn’t so, having stood in those doorways myself.
Autistic people are particularly vulnerable to deceptions of the heart. Sadly, we often bring them on ourselves, through a mix of hope and blindness. We cannot tell what the other person intends, because that’s the nature of social blindness. We’re drawn to the smile, when another might have seen the phony. We stay when we should run, because we fear we’re disabled, and love may never come again. For so many reasons, we are vulnerable.
It would be easy to blame predatory people. Narcissists. Sociopaths. More and more, that’s the American way. Blame someone or something else; something beyond our control. Many would seize that argument. I don’t believe that.
I believe most people are good, but life presents them hard choices. Sometimes the paths they choose are not the best. As much as we hope otherwise, we cannot control where another life leads.
Sometimes, all the roads hurt.
This is a hard time of year for many of us, me included. When Thanksgiving week comes I pray for the arrival of January second. I wish you Godspeed to the other side.
Lies, evasions, and half truths. All are deceits. Yesterday’s white lie, once discovered, reveals the big one from the month before. That’s the problem with lies. When you unravel one, there is always another behind. It’s a ball of string that leads to the darkest recesses of the mind . . .
It’s easy to demand honesty, to hold the other person to a high standard. It’s hard to deliver, though, and harder still to know if we receive the truth in our most intimate exchanges. So often, love and hope blinds to what’s obvious, when seen from a distance.
Our understanding of others is based on observation and interpretation. Revisited in the hard light of freshly discovered deception, everything changes. Was it innocent, or was it planned?
Relationships end, and we don’t really know why. A few months later, the truth emerges, in a few casual words. Innocent enough, until the idea percolates in the mind. There were the phone calls, those unexplained days, and those fights that made no sense . . . suddenly, everything looks different. It feels wrong. Did those things really happen, or was it all in the mind? When one fact proves real, other evidence is harder to ignore. Hope gets replaced by resignation. And so the mind begins its tortured journey.
What seemed sweet and sad immediately turns shabby and tawdry. Sympathy turns to cold rage, as the realization of what’s really happened sinks in. All of a sudden, the magic of the precious days before is shattered, never to seem beautiful again. Was her sweet smile real, or was it just a pretty lure, reeling him in?
Logic tells us it started out real. Love grows, and goes astray. Life intrudes. Other options appear. At some point, what was real became false. And looking back, we cannot know the precise time and place that it all went wrong.
The optimist says it was beautiful, until the very last day.
The pessimist says he was played for a fool, right from the start.
The realization sinks in that it’s really over. Some would put her photo in the drawer. Others would cast it in the trash. In the end, everyone moves on. But for some, the pain lingers for a lifetime.
That’s the terrible curse of autism, when love goes wrong. We lack the defenses others have evolved; our hearts are easily broken and hard to repair. We perseverate, and ugly thoughts circle in our mind, slicing jagged tears in the soul with every gyration. We lack expression, so the feelings stay locked inside, eating us alive. And worst of all, we lack the ability to sense positive energy from others, to rebuild our psyche. Breaks are the start of a hard, hard time. For some, it’s a path to alcohol or depression. For others, it’s a door to suicide.
I wish it wasn’t so, having stood in those doorways myself.
Autistic people are particularly vulnerable to deceptions of the heart. Sadly, we often bring them on ourselves, through a mix of hope and blindness. We cannot tell what the other person intends, because that’s the nature of social blindness. We’re drawn to the smile, when another might have seen the phony. We stay when we should run, because we fear we’re disabled, and love may never come again. For so many reasons, we are vulnerable.
It would be easy to blame predatory people. Narcissists. Sociopaths. More and more, that’s the American way. Blame someone or something else; something beyond our control. Many would seize that argument. I don’t believe that.
I believe most people are good, but life presents them hard choices. Sometimes the paths they choose are not the best. As much as we hope otherwise, we cannot control where another life leads.
Sometimes, all the roads hurt.
This is a hard time of year for many of us, me included. When Thanksgiving week comes I pray for the arrival of January second. I wish you Godspeed to the other side.
Comments
If I believed that most people are good, I would despair at what I see in the world. I believe we are basically bad and constantly need help. I mess up all the time. More often than not, I am serving only myself. During this season, I try very hard to focus on the needs of others. That's what makes the season so great.
If we don't expect much of people, we won't be disappointed.
I only realised today that I know of him by a name other than that given by your parents. Which made me feel strangely cheated, owning as I do, three or four of his books.
Anyhoo, I read just this your more recent post and it made me think very deeply.
My little cousin Craig is autistic. I don't really know him very well, we meet at Christmas and mostly that's it. But you really made me think.
He's a very bright chap. And I am under the impression they use the word 'intelligent' as a euphemism for autistic.
Now I am very much considering buying one of your books for him for Christmas. Hopefully it could give him the sense of not being alone that I got when I went into my first gay-bar full of other unkempt and dishevelled homosexuals. As opposed to the awful tidy ones that I abhore.
Anyway, um... Hope your festive season is ok. And I hope to find out more of your tales in the 'radioactive horse' line.
my 12yo aspie is now going through a very defensive period, if he pushes away first, he can't let anyone in to hurt him. i love him and this 'social inappropriateness' is breaking my heart, because i see how he's preemptively breaking his own.
his transition to middle school has been very hard.
Happy Solstice,Wrenching and Peace.
My mother told me that she married my father, who has Asperger's, because, "He seemed so out of touch and sensitive but removed. And I had so much love to give. I just knew that if I gave him all the love in my heart he would blossom and become a warm outgoing person. But all he did was take my love and gave nothing in return."
They had known each other since they were both about seven years old and were later married for 23 years and her increasing mood-swings and over-emotionality made his life unpredictable and profoundly confusing. When they broke up he was at a total loss as to why and utterly adrift in his self-doubting silence. She was the love of his life.
Years later, he broke down while attempting to speak in front of a large crowd at her funeral and cried.
My heart broke for him.
I wish my mom had known how to speak to him to get what she wanted. Most people, Aspergians or not, do not know how to do this and that is sad too. It can be as simple as kindly saying, "I worked hard to look this way today so tell me that you think I look nice, OK?" or, "I need to hear that you love me right now. Could you tell me please?" and then accept the compliment or the "I love you" because it's true and leave it at that. Genuine, heart-felt communications are hard to come by.
I feel your pain, John.
Soldier on though. You seem to continue learning and are so open to what's out there. You're better off than so many people and perhaps your Asperger's has helped to make you the fixer - and self-fixer - that you are. The search for answers is never in vain. Even if you don't find the perfect way to fix things, the search is everything.