I recently recognized that there is a very good chance I have Asperger's Syndrome, on the spectrum of Autistic disorders but less challenged. A good option, if you are going to be on the spectrum, for intelligent people. Which I guess I give a good imitation of intelligence. I used to go to student Counselors at PLU and they were all named Molly, and they all eventually put on a puzzled expression about why my life wasn't working and said, "Well, you're obviously bright . ." If I was dumb, my life might make more sense.
Facets of my mental operations that indicate a different wiring: social disconnect, literal thinking, vulnerability to bullying without knowing why [I thought it was red hair], ability to imitate accents [also animals, if that counts as an accent], inability to mathematically prove my mathematical solutions [it's just obvious], earning me a D+ in Plane and Solid Geometry; definitely non-kinisthetic, a little clumsy, always getting confused and tangled up in conversations [leading to endless miscommunications and misunderstandings], interrupting and blurting out my ideas the second they hit, job bouncing, gullibility, inability to think or move quickly [a real liability in entry-level work], slow-to-never learning to ride a bicycle, very slow to learn to swim, very slow learning to drive, extreme honesty, irritable and sensitive, sensitive to light and noise, early awakening.
Following a group conversation is one of my challenges, especially in a large family. For me, joining a group conversation is like jumping into the middle of a Virginia Reel dance without a partner and wondering why things did not work out so well.
It's not so easy to receive the piece of paper that says Official Diagnosis. I've been aping neurotypical behavior for fifty years.
Anyhow, I was elated to figure this out. It illuminates my life. I'm no longer stuck wondering what's going on. I can go, well, no wonder, and get on with it.
For more information, there's a wonderful book called, Asperger's From the Inside Out by Michael John Carley. Or the internet.
Epilogue: I had this incredible epiphany the other day when I was invited to join in a group of Baha'is visiting people in a neighborhood to build spiritual communities. Although everyone has apprehension meeting new people and starting conversations with them, I was always terrified beyond all reason. So I avoided it. After I realized I have AS, I realized this was why I had avoided teaching [not preaching] the Baha'i Faith. I had this mythical conversation in my head, thinking about the people who really suffer for their faith. "I don't need to go to prison or be tortured or executed for my faith. I'm just not wired that way . . . so, since I'm not wired that way, I don't actually need to teach . . ." I burst out laughing at the absurdity.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Resourceful Girl Changes Light Bulb
Where have I been? I've been busy, that's what. Now that I'm down to one reader . . .
A day off that I wasn't sure would be a day off because I promised that if one of the other nurses got called to jury duty I would come in. I decided that it was only fair, since so far I have called in sick, asked for funeral leave, requested Holy Days off, asked for time off for my nephew's wedding, and asked for an extra day off so I can "do" Ethnic Fest an extra day. Only fair. It took all morning to find out if I was needed or not, so anyway I finally decided I was off the hook, ate my grape nuts with applesauce and soy milk, and I need to buy more grape nuts by the way, and I decided to do a load of laundry, and just when I flipped on the light switch for the little foyer where the laundry sits behind louvered doors [always wanted to use the word louvered], the light bulb blew.
No problem. Right on the shelf over the dryer is a box of CFU's. And I'm looking at the shallow light fixture and thinking that there's no way a CFU is going to fit in there, imagining that the light bulb is in there vertically. So if I need to, I will just leave the fixture off. CFU's all the way.
So I get out my very short stool which I use as seating at my very small and short dining table which is really nothing of the sort, more of a sort of small coffee table, but if I used a regular non-dwarf dining table it would take up my entire very small dining room and all I would do is cover it in papers as my ancestors did before me. So I use a very small table. So I get out this little stool and it's just tall enough for me to reach the light fixture, and now my problems begin.
I start loosening up the screws at the side that hold in the glass fixture, I've done this a thousand times, no problem. One little screw, two little screws, darn. The third screw is stuck. Okay, I need more traction. Don't have a piece of leather, which would be ideal. A piece of that rubbery stuff with holes in it meant for opening jar lids. Doesn't work. Now what? At this point I actually consider calling the landlord. To change a light bulb? No way. I realize this screw, although everyone knows they can be turned with fingers, actually is a screw and has a screw slot in the end.
I probably have fifty screw drivers. Somewhere else. I don't know where they are. No junk drawer here. Go upstairs. Find a drawer that has unsorted junk from one of the junk drawers in the old house [which is probably unsorted from the junk drawers in the house before that.] Oh, good, a short screwdriver just the right length . . . and it's a Philips head. Okay, here's a little metal jackknife. It opens. Knife blade. No good. Try other side. No soap. Won't open. May never know if it's a screw driver blade.
Knife blade won't close. I try a multitude of methods, which if they work, position my fingers in front of the blade so I will be maimed if the blade closes. Doesn't work. Probably for the best. Again I consider calling the landlord. Since I haven't rented an apartment alone since my college dorm room, I'm not sure of the protocol. Surely some of his tenants are so feeble they can't change a light bulb?
Here's a cardboard nail file. Probably break. Here's a hair clip. Metal, thin, a good possibility. Then something makes me try a different drawer. Here's another jackknife. Has a knife blade. Has a screwdriver blade. Bonsai!
Screw turns, fixture gets rinsed out, CFU placed, and fixture actually fits over the CFU.
Resourceful girl wins! Learning? How to spell jackknife.
Epilogue: Recently I decided my Special Power is screaming. I haven't yet decided what it accomplishes.
A day off that I wasn't sure would be a day off because I promised that if one of the other nurses got called to jury duty I would come in. I decided that it was only fair, since so far I have called in sick, asked for funeral leave, requested Holy Days off, asked for time off for my nephew's wedding, and asked for an extra day off so I can "do" Ethnic Fest an extra day. Only fair. It took all morning to find out if I was needed or not, so anyway I finally decided I was off the hook, ate my grape nuts with applesauce and soy milk, and I need to buy more grape nuts by the way, and I decided to do a load of laundry, and just when I flipped on the light switch for the little foyer where the laundry sits behind louvered doors [always wanted to use the word louvered], the light bulb blew.
No problem. Right on the shelf over the dryer is a box of CFU's. And I'm looking at the shallow light fixture and thinking that there's no way a CFU is going to fit in there, imagining that the light bulb is in there vertically. So if I need to, I will just leave the fixture off. CFU's all the way.
So I get out my very short stool which I use as seating at my very small and short dining table which is really nothing of the sort, more of a sort of small coffee table, but if I used a regular non-dwarf dining table it would take up my entire very small dining room and all I would do is cover it in papers as my ancestors did before me. So I use a very small table. So I get out this little stool and it's just tall enough for me to reach the light fixture, and now my problems begin.
I start loosening up the screws at the side that hold in the glass fixture, I've done this a thousand times, no problem. One little screw, two little screws, darn. The third screw is stuck. Okay, I need more traction. Don't have a piece of leather, which would be ideal. A piece of that rubbery stuff with holes in it meant for opening jar lids. Doesn't work. Now what? At this point I actually consider calling the landlord. To change a light bulb? No way. I realize this screw, although everyone knows they can be turned with fingers, actually is a screw and has a screw slot in the end.
I probably have fifty screw drivers. Somewhere else. I don't know where they are. No junk drawer here. Go upstairs. Find a drawer that has unsorted junk from one of the junk drawers in the old house [which is probably unsorted from the junk drawers in the house before that.] Oh, good, a short screwdriver just the right length . . . and it's a Philips head. Okay, here's a little metal jackknife. It opens. Knife blade. No good. Try other side. No soap. Won't open. May never know if it's a screw driver blade.
Knife blade won't close. I try a multitude of methods, which if they work, position my fingers in front of the blade so I will be maimed if the blade closes. Doesn't work. Probably for the best. Again I consider calling the landlord. Since I haven't rented an apartment alone since my college dorm room, I'm not sure of the protocol. Surely some of his tenants are so feeble they can't change a light bulb?
Here's a cardboard nail file. Probably break. Here's a hair clip. Metal, thin, a good possibility. Then something makes me try a different drawer. Here's another jackknife. Has a knife blade. Has a screwdriver blade. Bonsai!
Screw turns, fixture gets rinsed out, CFU placed, and fixture actually fits over the CFU.
Resourceful girl wins! Learning? How to spell jackknife.
Epilogue: Recently I decided my Special Power is screaming. I haven't yet decided what it accomplishes.
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