Why I’m too scared to stop my contraceptive…

If the Too Much Information fairy gives you the ‘icks‘, this might not be the post for you.  If you’re interested in mental health, maybe give it a go.

I’m in my mid-thirties and (to my mother’s horror) have not reproduced yet.  Most people who know me will know I have mixed and contradictory feelings about becoming a parent, which may come over as ambivalence, but is actually a result of the tension between the rock and the hard place inside my head.  What few people know is that in addition to the deep moral contemplations about whether I could cope, whether it would be irresponsible to ‘give it a go’ without knowing I could cope, and the, quite frankly, cold sweats over the combination of my pain sensitivity and labour, I am scared of returning to what my life is like without synthetic hormones in it.

I had two very good reasons for getting a coil fitted, even though I had not had a child (they prefer to fit them in women whose cervixes are not clamped shut like the Stargate Iris): 1. Fairly severe hormone-related migraine; 2. Fairly severe hormone-related depression.  I had unknowingly kept both in check for over ten years by being on the pill, but the escalation of my migraines after I stopped taking it prevented my doctor from restarting it, despite my pleas of accepting any extra risk to get my normal life back.  Because for every three weeks of being and living as myself, I had one week of being and living as someone else.  Someone I didn’t like or recognise, who, between fits of crippling migraines, was trying to dismantle my life.  Ending relationships I liked, taking risks, quitting jobs I liked, drinking too much, trying to get back with unsuitable exes…  Like some sort of mid-life crisis crossed with a teenager whose parents are away for the week and left them in charge of the house with a full drinks cabinet and a debit card.  Then after a week, back to reality – the regrets, the cringing, the ‘what was I thinking’, and sometimes the relief that I hadn’t acted on my very-real-in-the-moment feelings.

After trying various unsuccessful solutions, I somewhat hesitantly conceded to trying a coil, because it couldn’t hurt (actually it really did hurt, but that’s not what I mean).  I can only say that it has been the best thing that ever happened to me.  If it hasn’t saved my life, it has certainly turned it around – stable job, stable relationship, stable stableness, with much more manageable mood changes and migraines.  But now, the time has come to take it out.  It’s been running out for nearly a year.  I’ve been struggling more and more with migraine symptoms, and a gradual increase in low mood.  Even if I have another one fitted, this one still has to come out.  To transition me, I’ve been put on the mini-pill, which from memory didn’t do anything magic before, so I don’t know what I was expecting.

Having said that, what I wasn’t expecting was to be plunged straight back down the pit.  In the space of a few days I’ve gone from being on top of everything, to disliking my job and not wanting to leave the house.  I certainly haven’t missed the crawling into bed after work to cry, where nothing interests or excites me, and I don’t want to see or talk to anybody.  I know it probably won’t last, and that I don’t really feel like this, and that things will go back to how they were, but it feels so real, so hopeless, so permanent.  I try to cling on to my cognitive meta-awareness of my previous happiness.  I KNOW I like my job, this is an illusion.  I remind myself that I am lucky, some people feel like this all the time, or at the very least for months on end, and it must be so hard to keep up the hope that things will get better.

But, this brings me back to my fear, and my childlessness.  If you look at the stats, a fertile couple can still take up to a year to get pregnant.  One whole year.  Even assuming (best case) that pregnancy suited me, and I didn’t get post natal depression afterwards, that’s one whole year of epic unpredictability, and let’s face it, how much damage could I do to my life in a year?  Quite a lot.  I’m not sure it’s worth the gamble.

© Catastraspie, 2013.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stop making value judgements about empathy, please.

I get really uncomfortable when people discuss “empathy” in relation to Asperger’s, and sometimes I get a bit annoyed.  Ok, so I might not intuitively know how you are feeling or what you need, but I care deeply about your wellbeing and have your best interests at heart.  On the other hand, a psychopath might intuitively know how you are feeling, and know what to say, but not give a monkey’s about your wellbeing, or have your interests at heart.  I know which I’d prefer in a friend.  Knowing and caring are two different things, don’t confuse them please.

© Catastraspie, 2013.

English: Marvelous feats in mind reading. Poster print, lithograph, B&W, 70cm×53cm (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Giving my all when it doesn’t feel like enough

I am always trying my best, and I always try to please everyone, and I always try to be as good and fair as possible.  That’s why I don’t take criticism well, because I am trying my absolute hardest already and someone is saying it’s not good enough.  People are always saying that my standards are too high and that I am too hard on myself.  But people seem to expect so much of me, and are ready to be hard on me if I don’t do what they want, so what am I supposed to do?

I have a new job and a new manager, and at my first appraisal this week she told me that I am always pushing myself to do more and to do better.  I guess I knew that already, but I didn’t realise that it was unusual or notable enough to be mentioned in an appraisal.  I suppose I thought that everybody does the same and it was pretty much part of life.  It’s not perfectionism, as I am more than happy with a job that is ‘good enough’, provided that it is my best effort.  I am aware that my approach to myself can be problematic when I apply it to others.  With high expectations, clear rules about fairness, and constant striving for self-improvement, I imagine that I am easy to disappoint.

From a distance I appear fluid, but up close I am inflexible, in part due to running at full capacity already.  Push me too much and I break; I’m like an iced-up pond.  No I can’t do that small, seemingly innocuous, favour for you that would make your life easier, not because I am unreasonable, don’t care, or don’t want to help (trust me my desire to help rules my life); it is because I can’t do any more than I am doing right now.  I would have to leave something else in order to accommodate you, which would have knock on effects, and the time it would take me to prioritise and evaluate what I could stop with minimal consequences, is itself time I don’t even have.

If you’d asked me a week ago, it might have been ok.  But in this moment I am the person who took an over-stuffed suitcase on holiday, and with only 10 minutes before the flight home, finds that they forgot to leave room for souvenirs, and has to leave behind some other needed thing in order to make room.  What you see as ‘free time’, a luxury or something to be filled with people and activity, is in fact processing and preparation time, a necessity for me to manage my daily living, and something I need to do alone.

The values I look for in a friend include integrity, honesty, predictability, acceptance, and a sense of fairness and justice similar to my own.  The things that hurt me the most are disloyalty, moving goalposts, irrationality, lack of trust, and seemingly unfair criticism of my genuine actions and efforts.  You get the best out of me when you realise (and perhaps acknowledge) that you know that is what you are getting, at all times.  I don’t do halves.

© Catastraspie, 2013.

Shattered ice (Photo credit: ellensamuelsson)

Happy Valentine’s Day… if you do that sort of thing!

Valentine’s Day, it’s a bit of a funny one.  You can’t safely wish someone ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ like you would for their birthday or a national holiday, because for many of my friends it is a negative, irritating or unsettling day.

I find card sending in general quite difficult.  It’s never felt natural, I find it almost impossible to know the right words to put in cards, and I’m bad at judging who to send cards to and when.  On top of that, Valentine’s Day has become so commercialised and compulsory, that it’s almost a bit of a turn-off.

Personally, I’ve not had a proper, anonymous, wondering-who-it’s-from kind of card for nearly 20 years… until yesterday, when I found a gorgeous and mysterious hand-made heart in my in-tray (from a dear friend, which I guessed after looking at her face for only half a second – go me and my non-verbal skills!).

So, surely romance is about being spontaneous, doing something unexpected and at the time that feels right – everything that a planned and fixed celebratory day cannot deliver.  Still, as I sign my actual name at the bottom of my predictable, shop-bought, pre-written card, I find myself wondering why I can’t resist joining in.  Then I write the envelope in funny handwriting and quickly bung it in with the post, just to confuse my partner!

© Catastraspie, 2013.

Handmade Valentine’s Heart

Changing the world, one person at a time

As an adult on the autism spectrum, and a champion for understanding and acceptance, I try to strike the right balance between providing people with useful information and boring the pants off them.  As neurodiversity (and in particular adults with Asperger’s) is my new ‘special interest’, this can sometimes be a difficult balance to strike.  The strategy I tend to use is to speak for a few minutes and then stop, and wait to see if they continue the topic.  If they do I repeat my action of speaking for a few minutes and then stopping, with the exit from this loop being them changing the subject.  I find this far easier (and less energy-draining) than trying to detect non-verbal signals of interest/boredom, and on the whole it seems to work with all but the most politer-than-polite individuals.

Today I had the opportunity to bend the ear of an educational psychologist whom I met at a work event.  As work-related chit chat had dried up I asked a broad question about how ASC and related conditions are picked up in a school context these days (bearing in mind the diagnosis didn’t really exist when I was at school, and I am now the step-mother to some children very likely on the spectrum themselves).  Detecting some opinions that were potentially in opposition to my own ‘autism is a culture and I’m a very proud member’ viewpoint, I thought I’d better declare myself as less than impartial.

What ensued was a very interesting conversation that I am very glad to have had.  I really enjoy explaining and interpreting the aspie viewpoint and ‘lifestyle’, but what I enjoy even more, is challenging people’s stereotypes of what individuals with autism are like and how they come across.  I’m sure this person won’t mind me saying that they thought I presented as very neurotypical.  It’s not the first time I’ve been told that, and I was very keen to get across the fact that this is due to huge amounts of effort, years of practice, and a keen desire to blend in, rather than a reflection of an inaccurate diagnosis and/or the perceived ‘fashionable-ness’ of autism (apologies for the invented word).  I explained that this presentation comes at the expense of any sort of social life, and is achieved through a combination of paid and unpaid support in work and at home.  I explained that after 30-odd years of disconnection, I had found meaning and belonging with people around the world with whom I might only share this one thing, but that that connection has been invaluable and indescribable.

I guess I wanted to give flesh, life and colour to the concept of an adult with autism, who is now grown up and able to reflect on things like childhood, schooling and diagnosis.  I wanted to embody the mantra: ‘When you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism’.  A professional who interacts only with children and other professionals may not have met a wide enough variety of adults on the spectrum to have a full picture of what and who those children might grow up to become (despite, I suspect, having met a lot of undiagnosed but very aspie parents).  I like it when people are surprised, but only when that surprise is accompanied by a willingness to listen and reconsider.  Happily this was one of those occasions.

© Catastraspie, 2013.

Welcome To Awesomeville. Source: http://www.sawdustcitywholesale.com

Is sexuality a neurotypical construct?

I’ve never liked the word ‘bisexual’.  Although it’s probably relatively accurate, it’s never felt like the right word, and I’ve certainly not embraced it as an identity.  It comes with politics and stereotypes, assumptions and biphobia.  Just having a love of people in general, and an openness to getting to know someone because of *who* they are, not what toilet they go into, should not be associated with such negative things.  Whilst some might use the word ‘pansexual’ (or ‘multisexual’, or ‘polysexual’ – check out this cool blog if you’d like to know more), few people seem to know what that means, unless they are particularly well-informed, and people who jump to greedy or philanderous assumptions about bisexuals are likely to do the same about pansexuals.

In general I’ve preferred to use the phrase, somewhat tongue in cheek, ‘equal opportunities dater’.  It doesn’t just apply to gender identity and sexuality, I’ve been out with people much younger, and much, much older than myself.  I don’t have a ‘type’, beyond someone who makes me feel good about myself and doesn’t cause me loads of hassle.  Does that make me sound unfussy?  (Or as my friend kindly suggested, I’ll go out with anyone who’ll have me!)  I don’t mean it to, and anybody who knows me will confirm that I can be *extremely* fussy.  Just not about what school someone went to, what shoes they wear, how tall they are, or other surface or biographical characteristics.

Perhaps it comes from a sense that I don’t always make the right first impression, that it takes time to get to know me, and that some people’s perception of me changes dramatically once they do take the time to get to know me.  I like to extend the same courtesy to others.  Just because you are male/female, gay/straight, human/martian, or anywhere along those spectrums, does not mean we are not potentially compatible, something that is based on the *individuals* that we are on the inside.  You don’t hear people saying, “It didn’t work out because s/he’s a wo/man”, so why start out by saying, “It’s not going to work out because s/he’s a wo/man”.

I’ve always been like this.  I spent a while growing up wondering what it all meant, whether I was secretly gay and in denial.  None of the labels or hats seemed to fit, sexuality as it’s portrayed in mainstream popular culture just doesn’t seem to mean the same thing to me.  Later in life, after I found out I had Asperger’s, I started to discover that I was not alone in feeling like this.  Clearly it’s not a topic everybody is comfortable talking openly about, but some of the friends I did speak to at least understood what I meant, even if it was not their own experience.  What struck me was that most of the people who related to it (rather than just understanding or accepting it as a possibility) were also Aspies.  That made me wonder what role society has in shaping sexuality, and to what degree sexuality might be a Neurotypical concept.

I’m not suggesting that everybody is a blank slate (although there are some proponents of this).  Clearly lots of people feel strongly that they have had very clear preferences from an early age.  Also, if sexuality were purely socially-determined, everybody would probably grow up like those around them (and there would be little variation within a culture).  However, in addition to varying along a spectrum between e.g., straight and gay, I wonder if people might also vary along another continuum – that between genetically-determined and socially-determined sexuality.

This is not a self-congratulatory, ‘hey I’m not a superficial person’ post – on the contrary, to make this choice requires a good working knowledge of what others consider desirable, and what constitutes superficial.  If, on the other hand, you happen to fall towards the socially-determined sexuality end, but (due to neurodiversity) have great difficulty in recognising, interpreting and understanding social messages about expectations and desirability, you might end up choosing partners based on a different set of criteria to those played out in everyday society.  If you don’t know what the Jones’ think about shoes, or you don’t care what they think about shoes, you might not mind if your partner wears shoes for comfort rather than fashion.  You might just prefer that they love your cats as much as you do, and bring you a cup of coffee in the morning.

© Catastraspie, 2013.

PS Happy New Year everybody!

Pansexual flag (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

2012 in review

I quite like this aspect of using WordPress, a nice little 2012 activity summary:

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 9,600 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 16 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.“