I Can't Be Bothered Now

I was supposed to spend the morning beginning my spring cleaning with the kitchen and the bathroom. I only got to the bathroom. I slept late, then spent a lot of time reading Look Me In The Eye: My Life With Aspberger's, by John Elder Robison. It was the only book on Aspberger's I could find at the Haddon Township Library. (If nothing else, it makes me appreciate how much less dysfunctional my family is compared to John's, whose father was a raging alcoholic and whose mother was clinically insane.) I also received two job-hunting books from Lauren, What Color Is Your Parachute?.

Work was a monumental bore. Except for around 4-5PM it was dead, and even then it wasn't terribly busy. With many people recovering from an early Easter, there isn't much money to go around right now, even by people who get money and funds in the beginning of the month. At least it was a gorgeous spring day, in the mid-upper 50s, sunny and windless. I had a great ride to and from work. One of the boys who stock produce was able to fix my back bike breaks, too - apparently, they just popped off.

Shamrocks and John Wayne

Spent the morning of a gorgeous St. Patrick's Day watching The Quiet Man. One of several movies John Ford made with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, this beautiful Oscar-winning comedy features Wayne as a former boxer who just hung up his gloves and returns to his native Ireland to claim his family's homestead. He falls for feisty O'Hara, but has to contend with her bullying brother (Victor MacLaghlin) who is sporting for a fight, oddball locals, and the old-fashioned courting customs native to the Emerald Isles.

Ford loved both the story and Ireland, and it shows in every frame, from the real Irish backdrops to the equally real Irish or Irish-American cast. Barry Fitzgerald in particular is fun as an old friend of Wayne's family. (I loved him taking bets on the donnybrook in the finale!)

Mom called about mid-way through The Quiet Man. She wanted to know if I'd looked up Asperger's Syndrome yesterday, that I should tell my psychiatrist about it, and that she's there if I need to talk to her.

I still don't like the idea. I've been hoping so hard that I was just a normal person with some weird quirks. I don't want to be a test case my whole life. I don't want people to think there's something wrong with me or to treat me differently if there is. I'm not a China doll or a hamster. I'm a person.

I spent the rest of my St. Patrick's Day at work. Thank goodness after last St. Patrick's Day (when I worked late on the day after a snowstorm and spent it listening to two inane teenage boys blabber), it was a beautiful, perfect 50 degree March day and my shift was busy but not really a problem.

Behind Hazel Eyes

I called the family for my weekly talk this morning; finally got Mom. Physically, she was feeling much better and had almost entirely recovered from last week's bout with the stomach flu. (Keefe apparently got it, too, but not as badly.) Mom is trying to get the yard of the house done with the little money they have left, and is worried about Keefe's grades. He had to drop sports and other outside activities until they improved.

The other thing she wanted to talk about was something she'd found on the Internet. I forget how she said she found this, but she says she thinks I may have a mild form of Autism known as Asperger's Syndrome. Many of the symptoms - difficulty with social interaction and irony or teasing, tendency to obsess over topics, fear of change and desire for sameness, habit of taking words literally, poor and/or delayed motor skills, clumsiness - do relate to me (although most of the sites I've read says AS is more common in boys than girls).

I have mixed feelings about this. All my life, I've hoped upon hope that everyone was wrong and there was nothing wrong with me at all. I assumed I was just weird and people simply don't and can't understand. And I was called a "retard" so much throughout my school career (well into college) that I'd come to know what one was...and I wasn't. I was so tired of being constantly told that people would have to know how to "handle" me, like I was a China doll. I don't want to be handled. I want to be loved.

I don't agree with Mom that AS is entirely the problem, either. I was bullied constantly as a child. My sisters and brother and I lived through some nasty childhood trauma during a period in the late 80s when the family seemed to be breaking apart. I was too afraid to be involved in clubs like 4-H or the Girl Scouts (my sisters were briefly members of both) and thought I was too clumsy and physically inept for sports teams.

I've thought about this a lot today. Probably a good thing work was very busy (and my relief was late), but otherwise no problem. I wonder if I have some of the other problems listed, too. I know I have a hard time talking about my own feelings, but...am I insensitive to how other people feel? Do I cut them off? Do I bore people when I talk about one of my obsessions? I know I lisp, but I thought that had to do with my overbite. I do tend to talk fast when I'm nervous and revert to old habits.

I want to join a group, but I don't want it to be clinical. I don't want to feel like a China doll or a hamster in a lab cage. I don't want to be "handled." I just dread what groups of people will say...will think...about someone who isn't normal.

Here's some more information on Asperger's Syndrome:

http://health.yahoo.com/children-behavior/asperger-s-syndrome-topic-overview/healthwise--zq1009.html